


The Way

by fab_fan



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Colonial America, Drama, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Historical, Idiots in Love, Light Angst, Love, One Shot, Pre-War, Random & Short, Romance, Short One Shot, The Author Regrets Everything, the historical journey continues, they are in love, witches in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:47:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26520865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fab_fan/pseuds/fab_fan
Summary: “Collar!”Raelle paused at the slight lift of his gravelly voice.He stared at her, nothing in his dull black eyes except a touch of contempt and hint of smug control, “Do not forget your place. It would serve you well to remember that….your kind...are not revered nor appreciated. My kindness in offering you an apprenticeship only extends so far.”The warning and threat were clear as the bright blue sky outside, “Yes, sir.”
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 109





	The Way

Goddess, if it wasn’t a miserably hot day.

Raelle did her best to ignore the way the sun blinded her and caused sticky stubborn sweat to drip down the back of her neck and plaster her already constricting shirt to her back as she ducked around a braying horse whose rider was ill-equipped for such a passionate creature. She quickly dove out of the way of an oncoming cart, juggling the viles and papers bundled haphazardly in her arms, grimacing as a spat of mud struck her in the cheek from the rolling wheel that missed her by nary an inch, the driver paying no heed to the young woman tripping along in front of him.

Wincing as the glass bottles clinked against one another, she hefted her valuables further against her chest and twirled out of the path of a pair of gentlemen meandering down the walk, neither even offering a cursory glance at her, heads dipped towards each other and fervent words whispered amongst them and them alone, though the words were most likely the same as many that were being exchanged in the small coastal Carolina town. 

The blonde rubbed her shoulder against her cheek, only smudging the brown stain further into her sun kissed skin. With a frown, she rambled the last few paces to the door that marked her destination. The handle gave her something of a puzzle, what with her hands full and full of very breakable items, at that, but she was successful in opening it by jamming her elbow and twisting her arm in a rather painful manner. Raelle stumbled inside, gracelessly depositing her wares on the nearest flat surface.

“I presume you did not shatter anything of importance on your lengthy journey.” 

Raelle took a deep breath, closing her eyes at the subtle insinuation of clumsiness and time wasting, “No, sir.”

The doctor eyed her over his ledger, ticking a mark with the quill before dipping the sharpened end back into the pot of ink, “We shall see.”

Raelle bit her tongue, schooling her features into an air of blank deferential servitude while her insides bristled, “Any more I may do, sir?”

He waved his hand, “You are free to go. Return before dusk to sort the elixirs and prepare my things for the journey to the Trawlneys tomorrow. I shall leave at dawn.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” Raelle gave a tiny bow before turning and making her way to the door.

“Collar!”

Raelle paused at the slight lift of his gravelly voice.

He stared at her, nothing in his dull black eyes except a touch of contempt and hint of smug control, “Do not forget your place. It would serve you well to remember that….your kind...are not revered nor appreciated. My kindness in offering you an apprenticeship only extends so far.”

The warning and threat were clear as the bright blue sky outside, “Yes, sir.”

“Very well. Off with you. Do not be late the next time I require you to be of use...what little use you are.”

Jaw locked so tight her teeth felt as if they might shatter like one of the hand sized bottles on the table, Raelle forced herself to calmly walk out of the apothecary, using every ounce of willpower vested within her short stature to not slam the door behind her. Body thrumming with scarcely suppressed anger, she turned on her heel and stormed down the walkway, fists balled tightly at her sides and taut shoulders straining under the suddenly sweltering prison of a jacket, the tattered linen feeling more like chains wrapped around her body than a hand-me-down of a garment.

She wanted to shout. To yell. To scream as loud and long as her lungs would allow. She wanted to throw her fists and kick and pick up the closest piece of anything and send it flying all the way to the ocean. 

_Her kind_.

Women.

Witches.

He meant witches.

Her blunt nails dug into the weathered flesh of her palm, the tiny bite of pain doing nothing to stem the rage filling her, a monster clawing at her mind, a demon rattling around in her soul, seething and spitting.

She was meant to be grateful for his patronage. That he would even entertain the very notion of letting a witch study under his tutelage. Study the science of medicine. Of how the body worked and how one heals it. 

How civilians heal it.

That he would let someone of her station, a young woman from the countryside who had no formal schooling and no letter of introduction. Only her quick wit, eagerness to assist those in need, and no other options except to beg for scraps or hideaway aboard a merchant vessel, hoping they would let her stay amongst the crew once found and work her way to a role that provided for a sustainable existence.

But, healing was in her blood. In her heart. It was what she was meant to do. 

Her hands seemed to burn with the very thought of it all.

She knew her powers. Knew what she was capable of. Knew of the times she had chanted the words and fixed the torn leg of a neighbor. Had visited others under the cover of darkness to take away their illnesses, their agonies, their sufferings.

Powers that, if seen by any of the civilians surrounding her in the light of day, would result in her being outcast. Ostracized. Offered no work and only cruel untrusting glances as she attempted to survive. 

As she waited for one of the many faces that passed her by to arrive with a noose and torches. 

Waited to be dragged to the nearest tree and hung for all to see, a warning that certain people were not welcome. 

A warning that, while some colonies may ascribe to a form of acceptance, this town did not. These people did not. At least, not enough to guarantee any form of safety in being openly conversant in her heritage.

And, the doctor knew this.

He knew it and held it over her head any time she was not performing the way he wished she would. When punishments of sharp thin sticks smacking and slicing the backs of her hands or spending countless hours scrubbing floors that would never be cleaned to his satisfaction were not enough.

Pushing her way around a group of men outside the local tavern, Raelle let her gaze drop to her shoes, the tarnished buckles more rust and dirt than any sort of metal. She watched them clip forward and back with each step. The leather was crumbling, not even a skilled cobbler able to save them by this point. Much like the clothes on her back, the breeches a hair too big for her slim hips and the shirt tight along her arms, a tad too short. Her hat, a cocked headpiece made of plain worsted blackened wool that did very little to cover her golden braids from sight, was snug on her crown, a slight tear in one of the three folded up sides.

The clothing of a commoner. A person of little renown or regard.

A young woman, a witch, who did what she could with what little she had to hide away glumly in the shadows of those who thought her beneath them.

She should calm herself.

She wanted to take every single bottle she had delivered and watch them crash into the wall.

This was what her life was to be? This? This was the only way for her to fix others?

To live?

It couldn't be.

It wasn’t.

Not if the rumors were true.

The whispers about war and some accord in one of the sister colonies granting freedoms to witches who served. Who fought.

Head still down, Raelle didn’t see the person on the other side of an advancing couple until she rumbled into them, her feet tripping as the other person took a step back at the force. Doing her best to catch herself, Raelle’s arms swung around, and she jolted back, panicking at potentially having knocked someone over, “My apologies! I….”

Her concerned blue eyes rose up to meet laughing ocean orbs, “Good day, Raelle.”

“Scylla,” Raelle felt a sense of calm slip into her, draining the tension from her being. She cleared her throat, “Miss. Ramshorn, I am most sorry for…”

A hand landed on her still curled fist, causing her words to falter and trail off as she blinked at the touch.

Scylla’s gaze swept over her, eyes squinting slightly as her brows knitted together, “What is wrong?”

Raelle wet her lips, gulping thickly, the drawl she was instructed to break free from peeking out, “N-Nothin’.”

The brunette, a vision in silk and satin, a peculiar mix of respectability and alluring darkness in the form of a northern accent and genteel manner paired with salacious smirks that always left Raelle with a hazy recollection of heated nights and heart pounding mornings, caressed her knuckles, silently urging her whitened fingers to unfurl. Scylla sofly flipped her hand over, tracing the tiny cuts and indentations among the callouses and creases of her palm, “You have hurt yourself. You must be more careful.” She drew small indecipherable patterns, “A fixer’s hands are very important.”

Raelle blinked back the shiver such a brush of her fingertips elicited, “For many reasons, one might presume.”

Scylla’s eyes sparkled as her lips curled into a smirk, “Indeed.”

Raelle wanted to kiss her until that lazy grin was painted on her own mouth.

Uncaring of where they were, Scylla carefully reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind Raelle’s ear, her fingers skimming down to cup her jaw. Raelle unconsciously leaned into the hold, lashes fluttering closed for a breath as the older witch’s thumb pressed into her cheek and wiped away the brown stain.

“Come with me.” Scylla let her hand drop, giving a small tug to the hand she was still holding and guiding Raelle away from the busy street and behind the cooper’s shop, the smell of fire, hot iron, and wood shavings permeating the air. They continued walking, taking the shortcut to the small row of buildings on a nearly empty road, far quieter and peaceful than the chaotic mess of the town center, a few children and an old woman strolling along as the only other souls in sight. Scylla squeezed Raelle’s hand before releasing it, digging out a key as they approached one of the small ramshackle brick buildings that were rented out by a local family with rooms to spare. With a flick of her wrist, she unlocked the door and opened it, stepping inside. After a moment’s hesitation, Raelle followed.

The second she crossed the threshold, Scylla stepped into her, forcing her against the door, Raelle stumbling back and closing it with a thud, hat tipping off her head and tumbling to the floor. 

Scylla kissed her.

Hard and long and scorching with desire.

Raelle swallowed a low moan at the feel of a hungry delectable mouth capturing and taking over her own. Hands grabbed at her sides, gripping her coat as she curved her palms around Scylla’s face, fingers weaving into her long silky hair. 

Goddess, she tasted like heaven.

Raelle urged her closer, slanting her head and asking for more, needing more, wanting more. 

Wordlessly begging and demanding what she only sought from the woman in her arms.

The world seemed to explode and be born again as a tongue met her own.

Scylla pulled her closer, bodies flush together, fingers digging under the cotton shirt to feel tawny skin, to tickle ribs and dance along a smooth belly.

Mouths meeting and melting together, they kissed until their lungs cried out for air.

The couple broke apart with a gasp, foreheads resting together as Raelle tangled her hand in Scylla’s hair, massaging the back of her head and sloppily pressing tiny kisses to her face. 

Scylla smiled against her skin, spreading her palm along Raelle’s lower back and slotting their hips together suggestively, “When must you return?”

“Never.” Raelle murmured, nose nuzzling against Scylla’s.

Scylla laughed lightly under her breath, peppering a quick burst of kisses against her lips, “I should scold you for leaving without word of your planned departure. Instead, I find you already at my mercy.”

“Always.” Raelle breathed against her mouth, “He sent me with no warning. Two day’s ride I made in half as such. All I could think of was you. All I can think of is you. Every thought...every word, every breath, every action is yours.”

Scylla tenderly scratched her back, blushing slightly before releasing a sigh, “Was it me you were thinking of as you strolled down the walk as if you were the Puritans' devil himself, far angrier than even the sternest of preachers I have encountered?”

The corners of Raelle’s mouth sank, the glow in her dimming.

Scylla leaned back slightly, searching her face, her eyes, “You do not hide your anger well.”

She didn’t hide it at all.

“It was not meant for you.”

“Yet I am still the one asking of it.”

Raelle’s shoulders lifted and fell, chest contracting and expanding as air streamed out of her nose sharply, “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

“Raelle,” she let her hands settle to the blonde’s hips, “tell me.”

Raelle bit her lip, trying to avoid Scylla’s eyes, hands dropping away as they flexed and fidgeted, wishing to have something to busy themselves with, “It was…” she shrugged.

Scylla waited patiently.

“It is what it always is.” finally burst out. “I’m nothin’ more’n an uns’phisticated idiot of a witch who...who should be most grateful ‘m not hangin’ from some tree.” She stormed around Scylla, stomping further into the small home, rage obvious as her accent deepened and swirled, “An’ ‘m never goin’ to learn with how all I do is put bottles in a bag. I’m meant to learn with what little time he gives me by...by readin’ the books but…”

But she was not a strong reader, and his books were always locked away, the price of one alone making any pamphlet or tome beyond her reach with the meager coins she was able to keep in her pocket.

Raelle spun around, face twisted in anguish, “Ev’ry day I am fearful he will tell someone or...or someone will discover it...discover you.” She swallowed roughly, hands gesturing futilely, “I am not powerful, but I do have powers. I am capable of fixin’ a broken bone in moments, yet no one would dare trust a witch to do anythin’ of the sort.”

Scylla slowly approached her, understanding in her eyes, “Raelle,” she tenderly lifted her hand, taking her lover’s and holding it firmly, swiping her thumb along the back of her knuckles, “I know a way.”

A way for them to be free.

To be who they were.

A group that had formed. A group of witches who lived together, thrived and prospered without civilians. Away from terror or despair or the pain of pretending to be who they were not.

A group she had been with before she traveled to this town. Before she met Raelle.

A group she so desperately wanted to introduce the other woman to.

That she wanted Raelle to join.

To be with her as they started a new life together.

Raelle set her jaw, “I discovered a way.”

Scylla blinked, startled, “You have?”

Did she already know?

“Yes,” she nodded eagerly, wiping the back of her free hand across her face, “there has been talk of war. Independence. You have heard the same rumors I have.”

War. 

Against England.

A war for the colonies to succeed from the king, to no longer be his subjects.

Raelle’s tone shifted, a thread of almost excitement roped into her voice, “Massachusetts is said to have an accord with the witches who reside there. If...if one were to serve in the militia, they shan’t be fearful for their life. Witches may be free to be who they are. To...to do Work.”

Scylla felt her stomach drop.

A chilling sense of foreboding descended upon the room.

“If there is war, it will most certainly not remain in the northern colonies. Even if it did, I could make the journey.” She grabbed Scylla’s other hand, “ _We_ could make the journey.”

Dread stole the words from Scylla’s tongue and doused her in disquieting ice.

“We could leave this very moment. I have a few coins saved. We could procure a cart of some sort. A horse. Even seek passage on a ship. There is one currently in the harbor destined for Boston. Obtain whatever supplies you may wish to have...we are here already….we could gather what items you want and be on our way before nightfall. It will take a bit of time to arrive in Massachusetts, I believe...Salem is the town...but we would be free. I’ll agree to this accord and...and we can be happy together.”

Scylla could only stare at her.

Raelle offered a small shy grin, “Will you come with me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Love you if you read my work. Love you times a million if you read and leave a kudos. Love you times infinity if you read and leave a comment. Love you times infinity plus one if you do all that and have a super awesome day.
> 
> And, yes, we are assuming Mass. was not the only colony and the accord took a little time to include the entire colonies/states.


End file.
